I was not so wholly given over to vanity as all that would indicate; but moved here or there looking after our defense in such manner as seemed to me proper, my mind busy all the while, and the vainglorious thoughts dying away as I observed Kenton. Then, when the young scout had advised that I remain at the further end of the cabin, keeping watch from the loophole in the shutter, I turned my attention to those whom we had saved from the stake. They were father and son, as I learned from the conversation the elder was holding with my mother, who ministered to their wants at the table. Horace Sampson was the man's name, and he called the lad Paul. The two had come from Maryland to locate a homestead, and the only wonder in my mind was that the savages had not taken them captives before they got so far into the wilderness; for neither of them knew as much regarding woodcraft as had I on my tenth birthday. They had believed it would be possible for them to frighten the Indians by a mere show of weapons, and could not be persuaded by those who had been on the frontier, that it was but little less than suicide to venture in this section of the country alone. For three weeks they had traveled here and there searching for a likely-looking location, and not until the day previous had the savages shown themselves. Then that which might have been expected happened in a twinkling, and before either the father or the son had an idea any danger threatened, they were disarmed, and bound within view of our cabin, as I have related. Even after having been so near a terrible death, Mr. Sampson believed it might be possible to retrace his steps in safety; but my mother cried out so loudly against any such foolhardy venture, and painted the dangers of the frontier in such vivid colors, that the ignorant man finally came to believe it was hardly safe to trust himself alone amidst foes whose methods of warfare were so entirely a secret to him. Simon Kenton must have been listening to the conversation even as I had been doing, for he said when mother had ceased her warning: "The only safe path for you is that which leads to Corn Island. There you will find a goodly company, and I doubt not that before many days have passed you will meet with some who propose to journey on your road." "But how may we provide for ourselves on this island of which you speak?" the man asked helplessly, and the question in itself was sufficient to prove his ignorance. "There will be no lack of helping hands," Simon Kenton replied with a smile. "On the frontier men do not count the value of food and a shelter, as do those who live in town." Then, as if to show he was pig-headed as well as ignorant, Mr. Sampson argued that he was not willing to accept charity from strangers; that it would be demeaning himself to receive anything for which he was unable to pay.